Refuge
by Sweet Namaste
Summary: Mirai Trunks has returned to the future, with a different plan in mind; harness the androids, instead of destroying them. He defeats cell, and life continues on for Earth, now left with the battlescars of destruction. But when the refugee from a nearby galaxy appears, how long will peace reign over the Earth? T for now, possible M rating later. No set pairings, yet. In progress :3
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

"The data you have on me is incorrect." The young saiyan spoke, his voice laden with spite. Oh, how it irritated 18 to her core. This little whelp, which they had on so many occasions crushed beneath them, now challenged their reign over the begotten city.

_Impossible!_ Her mind scoffed, and she charged at him again, fists flying furiously. To her dismay, Trunks knocked them aside with ease. And with a smile on his face, no less!

It seemed realization had smacked her in the face, as it had her brother moments earlier, for he too was silent. She looked back at him, seeing shock in his eyes, and his body rigid.

"Enough, sister."17's hollow voice rang out over the empty buildings and rubble. The blonde's efforts slowed, and eventually, she began to back away.

"Well, what do you expect me to do, just sit here and die?" Exasperation and exhaustion fuelled her now, causing her voice to shake slightly. By now, she had reached her brother, desperately trying to come up with a way to survive.

Her mind was empty.

As Trunks began his advance, they found themselves backed against a building. It was oddly gratifying for Trunks, who had now begun his advance to manhood, turning these two predators into prey. They had destroyed everything, taken everything away from him mercilessly. Twisted in anger, he began to think of the things he had lost; his father, his friends, his childhood…

Part of him longed to end their existence, to make them suffer excruciating loss, like he had.

The image of his mother's face returned to him, and his rage dissipated within him. His hair returned to its normal hue, and the aura of his Ki diminished. Trunks did in fact have a mission to do, and he reminded himself of it.

_Everyone deserves a second chance_. His mother's words rang in his head like a bell. _Remember, your father wasn't the nicest man, either. But there was still some good in him, somewhere._ A hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a small remote.

"Even though you deserve it, I'm not going to kill you today." The boy began, to the android's amazement. 18 couldn't imagine it, the idea of mercy. Not after what she'd done, what her brother had done.

"But why?" Her brother questioned, blurting his response like a scared child. 17 seemed to read his sister's mind; they had destroyed **everything** he loved. And they felt nothing over it, no remorse.

Trunks' thumb smoothed over the large red button's surface, not yet depressing it. He didn't want to deactivate them, not yet.

"Because, I've seen what happens to you. It's kind of pitiful, actually," He began, eyes no longer on them. Instead, it rested on the remote in his hand, lost within his memories of his trip to the past. "And I've seen you do good things, too."

The two bots had no idea what he could possibly be talking about; what had he seen? Where? It didn't really make any sense, but they listened nonetheless, without moving an inch. It could be a trap, a ploy.

"And honestly," Trunks said, after a few moments of silence. A sly smile crossed his face. "You're better to me this way."

Before 18 could respond, her features already twisted into confusion, the young saiyan thumbed the button. Their bodies sagged to the floor, a strange, placid look over their faces. If Trunks hadn't known any better, he'd almost have sworn they were dolls; so perfect, so emotionless, so empty looking now. But he knew better. He knew the destruction and suffering they had brought onto the Earth.

A sigh escaped him, one of relief, and of sadness.

He had finally won.

_But at what cost?_

His brain didn't dare think of it any of it now. No, now he would take these two creatures to his mother, and the two of them would celebrate their bittersweet victory. They would discuss how to salvage the future.

Slinging their lifeless bodies over his shoulders – which had thankfully broadened during his training – he shot into the air like a rocket, a sense of calm overtaking him.


	2. Hero's Return

**ONE**

"You need to go back, Trunks." The cool voice of 18 informed the young Saiyan, who was fresh home from a successful journey back. He couldn't even fathom what she was saying.

"What do you mean? I just got here!" He questioned, through forkfuls of food. Trunks hadn't eaten before he left, and had been absolutely starving. Thankfully, Bulma had anticipated as much; a large, warm dinner awaited him when he entered the newly remodeled house. 17 and 18 had been more than useful over the past few months, helping he and his mother rebuild the things they had destroyed, which included their Capsule Corp. home.

"If you're trying to bring anyone back," She began, catching his arm before he could shovel in another bite. "Which I'm sure you are, you'll need them. And the only way to get them is to go back." At this, 18 let go, sitting down across from him and flipping golden locks over her shoulder. Of course, their attitudes really hadn't changed; when his mother had reactivated them, the evil programming and bombs aside, they had almost seemed grateful.

Now, however, they were back to their usual selves. Although, he had to admit, on more than one occasion he'd found 18 in their garden, singing softly to the sun and the plants while she worked. He'd admire, for a little while, before she'd catch him and bring back her callous nature.

But he knew differently.

"It doesn't work like that, 18. I created a whole new timeline…a new chain of events. Their future isn't going to be the same as this one. It'd be like wishing on a different dimension - it simply won't work." The bite she'd caught in his hand scooped into his mouth, but he chewed slowly, in thought.

"Well then, looks like I'm out of ideas." Arms folded over her chest, and she stared out the window, a look of distaste crossing her face. She could hear him sigh softly, dropping the fork down onto the plate.

"Me too. I think for now, we should just worry about getting things back to the way they were." The plate, which was only half eaten, was abandoned as Trunks exited the small room. His heart swelled a little, thinking back to the past. The time he had spent with his father, with everyone, was more than he could have hoped for, even now. The steps down to the basement, where his mother had busied herself, thudded beneath his heavy feet.

Behind him, 18 watched his purple hair disappear into the darkness. Guilt overtook her momentarily; like most of her feelings, though, it soon passed, and she focused her attentions onto other things. "I'll bring them back," She whispered, staring out the window again. "I owe you that much."

As he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, the familiar smells of his mothers perfume blended with oil and grease hit him. She hummed to herself, hands busily reassembling some sort of gadget. It fizzled and popped, then sprang to life.

"Ha! I did it! Did I ever tell you your mom's a genius, Trunks?" Her aqua eyes fell upon her son, who now stood by her side. Ruby red lips pursed into a smile. It felt good for him to see her this way, with things returning to normal. Of course at night he'd still listen to her sobs, the void where her friends and family had once been. Where his father had once been.

But during the day, Trunks would watch her scurry about the house, finding the tools and materials she needed to build some of her new designs. In these few months of peace and recuperation, along with the android's help, they had managed to repair most of West City. But for his mother, it wasn't good enough; she worked herself to the bone, creating new tools to help speed up the process.

Trunks set a hand onto his mothers, smiling at her. "Yes, I think I remember you saying that." She laughed, turning away from the strange device that lay on her workbench. "Are you ready to eat something, too? You're going to disappear if you don't start eating more, and working a little less."

Bulma chuckled, pride in her son swelling. _I'll see him get married now._ She thought, resting a hip against the bench. Often she found herself thinking these things, her only salvation from the loss of nearly everyone she's known. But now was not the time for those thoughts. "Well, I think you're right, son. My hands are sore, I stink like oil, and I could use some food." She followed him up the stairs, sunlight washing over her milky complexion.

"Why don't we eat outside, Trunks? We've been stuck inside for long enough, and it's starting to get really warm out there." As they topped the stairs, she offered 18 a friendly wave. "Hey, you want to come with? You could probably use a break, too." Bulma offered a wink, and was out of the room in a flash.


End file.
